Just One Nibble
by Silamen
Summary: Tweek, he's moved away from South Park, and expected he left all his friends behind, or did he? Rated M for language and later lemons. I'm new to writing stories really, so bare with me.
I take a small nibble out of the gigantic chocolate muffin I hold in my hand, a struggle to hold, it being bigger then the palm of my hand

I set it down on a plate on the Café table, I take a small sip of my coffee and let my vision pass to the large rectangular window,

Many people rushing home from work, school, just wanting to get home and crash into their beds and cuddle their loved ones

I let out a sigh under my breath, I look away from the window and down to my muffin, I sigh again "I'll never be able to finish that." I say solemnly, it came with a small sandy brown paper bag, I'll take it home and maybe I'll attempt at eating it again later

I slip the large muffin into the small sand coloured bag, the muffin barely fits, if it wasn't for the small bites I took off it earlier it wouldn't have fit

I take the last gulp of my coffee and open my small black and white checkered backpack, I slip the sand coloured paper bag with its contents into the backpack as well as my take away coffee "cup"

I head off, I open the French doors of the café and slowly walk out into the bustling afternoon streets

As I do a young man with black hair and a blue hooded shirt crashes into me "Dude!" He yells at me with a look of disgust on his face

Up until this point I hadn't twitched or ticked in any way, I flinch and knock myself into the window of the café I was just in, my ticks start up again, I twitch nervously whilst huddled up against a café.

We're starring each other off

He looks as if he is going to beat me, knock me to the heavy concrete ground and smash my head in

He easily could, he was much taller, and bigger then me, being only 5'3, him easily being 6'2

I prepare myself for death, as I stare at him with terror and tears welling in my eyes, I see a glint of sympathy in his

He seems to calm, his body no longer flexing, he sighs "You remind me of an old friend." He says in a deep voice

A tear rolls down my cheek, me still being terrified out of my mind 'What if he jumps me, what if he has a gun or a knife, what if he's secretly called his gang and they're on their way now!' My mind screams at me to run, anywhere, but I stay plastered on the spot I stand

Still starring him in the eye, I twitch multiple times over and my right eye flutters, he slowly approaches me, I curl into a small ball, helpless and submissive "I'm not going to hurt you." He says softly

I see the care in his eyes, he doesn't want hurt me, but I still can't tell myself that

"H-he-here!" I yell as I slip my backpack off and throw it into his arms "TAKE IT, GAH!" I flinch and twitch again

He opens my backpack, but instead of taking anything from inside of it he takes a small black pen out of his back pocket

He grabs the sand coloured bag with my muffin in it and writes something on it, he throws the paper bag back into my backpack and places it down in front of me.

I stand pinned in the corner between these two buildings

The coal haired man walks away

I twitch thrice more as I grab my backpack

Looking around paranoid I run as fast as I can through bustling groups of people on the side walks

I just want to get home as soon as I can, I don't want to be out here any more

I knew I should have just went straight home after work and not ordered that fucking muffin.

I return back to my small red bricked house

I grab my house keys and open my door quick, as if I'm trying to catch someone doing somthing

I flip the light switch, turning my lounge room light on

My lounge room only barring a small flat screen tv on a shitty wooden stand, a few DVDs stay stacked next to it, also a ripped and worn brown couch

I turn and shut my door, locking it quickly, in case of if anyone followed me home

I head to my bedroom, it barring my simple double bed, a few heavy blankets cover it with two light and fluffy, beaten and worn pillows sitting at the head of it

I set my backpack down on the messy, unmade bed, I pull out it's contents, my take away coffee cup, my beaten leather wallet I got seven years ago for my sixteenth birthday from my grandmother, a small sketch booklet with horrible doodles in it and finally, my muffin

I look at the sandy bag, it has what seems to be a phone number on it "Did he seriously give me his PHONE NUMBER!?" I become confused and dazed as I twitch twice more

I remove the muffin from it's sandy coloured prison and throw it onto my bed, not caring if the crumbs go everywhere, this place is a dump already..

I smooth the sandy bag out, so I can clearly read the phone number surprisingly neatly written on, this hand writing looked familiar, and it brought, nostalgia?


End file.
